


old friends to trust

by cosmicocean



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: BAMF Martha Jones, Bisexual Yasmin Khan, Gen, Humor, jack and mickey are both referenced but not present, yaz is crushing on martha a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26048536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicocean/pseuds/cosmicocean
Summary: “Hi, Yaz.” Martha peers at her. “How’d you even get here?”“Ah, I came with my mates, they’re around here somewhere.”Martha frowns. “You’ve got other people on board this thing?”“Yeah. Probably getting into trouble. We ended up here by accident, our friend’s ship can go a bit wonky sometimes.”“And you decided to poke around just for fun?”Yaz shrugs. “Happens.”Martha gives her an evaluating look, then sighs. “Yeah, had some days like that of my own.”Yaz runs into Martha Jones on an alien ship.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 133





	1. one

Yaz is gonna get an earful of it, if she survives this.

The Doctor’s surprisingly trusting of them for someone who won’t tell them anything, which is perhaps one of the more bitter thoughts she’s had in a bit, but she’s limping through an alien spaceship on a twisted ankle on her own, so she thinks she’s allowed to be bitter, a bit. Anyhow, she’d told the Doctor she needed to go investigate the central processing unit of the ship, and she could do it while the Doctor swanned off with Ryan and Graham, and she’d done it, and now she’s here, lost, with an ankle out of commission, and an unknown amount of aliens around here probably looking to kill her.

“Stupid pipe sticking out to trip over,” she mumbles. “Stupid aliens. Stupid spaceships. Stupid TARDIS screwing up landing on a resort planet. Sorry,” she adds, knowing that the TARDIS probably can’t hear her from wherever it’s at, but still feeling bad. “Shape up, though.”

There’s another minute or so of limping along until Yaz hears a sound. She wields the pipe she’d tripped over and yanked out of the floor in frustration, well aware if they’ve got guns she’s up the creek, and when she’s suddenly got what looks like a fairly large laser gun in her face, she’s about to take a somewhat chagrined swing at it when the gun lowers.

The woman holding it looks human, but Yaz has learned that you can’t really tell anything like that with the Doctor. She looks to be a middle aged black woman with short curly hair in all black, a leather jacket zipped up all the wa[y](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4996249576858087/), a small purse worn crossbody. Her brow wrinkles looking at Yaz.

“Easy,” she says. “Don’t wave that thing anymore, alright? What’re you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she answers, very confidently, she thinks, for a woman who’s currently teetering a bit. “Are you human?”

“Yes. Are _you?_ ”

“Yes.” She gives in and lowers the pipe to lean on it. The woman’s brow creases even further.

“Hang on, what’ve you done to your ankle?”

Yaz sort of wants to respond “what’ve you done to _your_ ankle” (it’s certainly what the Doctor would do), but she concedes that there’s not really a point. “Twisted it.”

“Hang on.” The woman lowers her gun and rummages around in her purse. She pulls out what looks like a syringe of some kind and kneels down. “Hold still.”

Yaz skitters back, which really just results in her falling. “Oof. You think I’m gonna let you stick me with something? I don’t know you, what if you’re working with them?”  
The woman shoots her a look. “Listen, you and I are the only organic beings on this thing, surrounded by inorganic things that want to kill us, and you’ve got a bum ankle. Your options are to trust me, or hobble around on that thing and see how long it takes for you to get killed.”

It’s a fair point. Yaz still squints at her for a moment before she sighs. “Alright, give it a go.”

The woman jabs her ankle. It only takes a couple seconds for the pain to ease up. She wiggles her foot experimentally. “…huh.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where’d you get that?”

“Someone whose team I used to work with dropped it off for me.” The woman tucks the empty syringe in her purse. “He brings me by stuff like that sometimes.”

Yaz tentatively gets to her feet. “What, your old boss just likes to drop in and bring you weird chemicals?”

The woman grimaces as she stands up, hefting her gun by her side again. “ _Don’t_ say he was my boss, I don’t care that he’s not here, he’ll find out somehow and it’ll be all-“ she spreads a hand and puts on what is really a pretty atrocious American accent. “Well, well, well, Martha Jones, I heard through the grapevine you think of me as your boss! You know, if you’re into that, innuendo innuendo innuendo, let your husband know innuendo-“ she blows a raspberry.

“I take it you’re Martha, then.” Yaz decides not to abandon the pipe. It could still come in handy if they run into anything. “I’m Yaz.”

“Hi, Yaz.” Martha peers at her. “How’d you even get here?”

“Ah, I came with my mates, they’re around here somewhere.”

Martha frowns. “You’ve got other people on board this thing?”

“Yeah. Probably getting into trouble. We ended up here by accident, our friend’s ship can go a bit wonky sometimes.”

“And you decided to poke around just for fun?”

Yaz shrugs. “Happens.”

Martha gives her an evaluating look, then sighs. “Yeah, had some days like that of my own.” She jerks her head. “Come on. I was just gonna hop out of here with my teleport device, but if you’ve got other people on board, we’ve got to figure out how to get them out, too.”

“Our ship’s on board. Well, I say _our ship_.” The TARDIS isn’t even really the Doctor’s. It’s its own thing altogether.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to make sure you get to it safely. Last thing we need is for you to run into some drones or get blown right up with the rest of the ship.”

Martha sets off and Yaz follows her. “Hang on, did you say blown up?”

“Yeah.” Martha’s stride doesn’t break. “I’ve got a bomb with me to set off in the core of the ship.”

Yaz gapes at her. “You’ve a _bomb_ in your purse and you’re just swanning about with it?”

“It won’t go off.”

“But what if you kill-“

Martha waves a hand dismissively. “It’s a fully automated ship,” she says breezily. “Drones are all remote controlled robots, ship’s a computer powering them. It’s a warship in orbit over Earth but I think it’s a relic, there’s no signal coming in anyway, far as I can tell.”

Yaz thinks it over. The aliens _had_ looked a little less, well, alien-y, but she wasn’t sure what that meant. “One of my mates might not like that.”

“One of your mates’ll need to learn how to deal with it, I’m not in the business of taking orders, especially from people I don’t know.”

Martha, Yaz thinks, is especially cool. She has a very nonchalant sort of coolness about her, the same sort of coolness the Doctor aspires to. It’s the sort of air Yaz would like to bring to her own life. “Where do we need to put the bomb?”

“Close to the central processing unit.”

“Oh, that’s where my friends went. Did you _really_ get here via teleport?”

“I used to travel in a different ship, but my options are a little more limited these days. Earth doesn’t have space travel, you’ve got to work with what you have. Might be handy now, if your ship goes a bit wonky we may need it to get out of here.”

“I don’t think she goes _that_ wonky. Will your teleport be strong enough to get all of us off the ship, though, in case?” Yaz can’t picture the Doctor being willing to leave the TARDIS behind but she may be able to rig something with the teleport if she has to.

Martha hesitates.

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“ _Probably_ is what I was going to say.”

“That’s still not reassuring.”

“I didn’t bank on- how many are there of you, anyway?”

“Three more.”

“I didn’t bank on having to transport _five people_ with it. You’re lucky my husband’s covering ground operations.”

 _Ground operations._ Yaz feels a bit silly, being starstruck by that. “Do you have an organization?”

“No. Just us. My friend pops in sometimes.”

“Is that the American friend who likes to give you a hard time?”

“The jokes he’d make about _giving someone a hard time_.” She sounds fond, though. “He’s the worst, really.”

Out of nowhere, a drone pops out of the woodwork. Martha raises her blaster but Yaz gives an almighty swing with her pipe. The drone’s head pops off and it falls to the floor.

Martha looks over at her, impressed. “Nice job.”

“We don’t use guns, we’ve got to be a little more creative. Oh-“ Yaz eyes the gun. “My friend’s not going to like that either, just a warning, she’s not fond of them.”

“She can try and complain to me about it, if she likes, but I’m a bit busy, I’m not interested in being mothered.”

“She’s… not really a motherer, she’s more like. Do you know when your dad would try and be cool by using whatever slang you and your friends were using but he just sounded like he was trying to be down with the youth?”

Two more drones pop out and Martha fires at one while Yaz takes a swing at the other.

“There’s less of them than I expected,” Martha observes as they drop. “Maybe your friend drew them off. In a way,” she adds hastily. “That means I’m sure they’re fine.”

“No, I’m sure they’re fine, they’re good at distractions.” They turn a corridor and are startled by sudden movement. Yaz raises her pipe. Martha readies her gun.

Graham yelps.

“God, Graham.” Yaz lowers her pipe. “Scared the hell out of me.”

“Scared the hell out of _me._ ” Graham gestures. “Who’s this?”

“This is Martha. She’s got a bomb in her bag.”

Graham takes a conspicuous step back. “Right, right, okay. I’m Graham. Hi.”

Martha gives a little wave. “Hi.”

“Where’s the others?”

“Oh, you know how she is, she charged off in some direction, Ryan followed her, she asked me to keep an eye on the place round the CPU here.”

“What, and she didn’t leave you with anything to defend yourself with? That’s not on.”

“Aha, no, look here-“ he rummages in his pocket and pulls out a little disc with a green glowing button in the middle of it. “See, it’s a-“

Three drones come up behind Martha and Yaz. They whirl to face them but Graham reaches out with the disc and presses the green button. Something shoots out and the drones disappear, the green button turns red.

Martha turns back. “Short range teleport?”

“Yeah, sends ‘em right outside the ship, they can’t access the signal from the CPU, deactivates them. Takes a bit for it to charge up again, though. Hey, how come you’re just swanning about with a bomb in your bag?”

Martha sighs. “Everybody’s a critic today.” She jerks her head. “Come on.”

Yaz follows her into the room with the CPU. Graham follows Yaz.

“How’d you find her?” he asks in a lowered voice.

“She just showed up,” Yaz murmurs back. “She’s from Earth. Came to destroy the ship.”

“And we’re just following her around now?”

“ _Yes_.”

Graham rolls his eyes. “You kids today with your hormones.”

Yaz is a little miffed. “Bit older than puberty, Graham, which is what I think you’re implying here.”

“Regardless. She’s a bit older than you, isn’t she?”

“Not by _much_ , and she’s _married,_ so I don’t think I’m into what you’re implying there, either.”

“Ah, already ferreted out her marital status, have you?”

“Alright, now, that’s enough of that.”

Martha, who has either been unable to hear their muttering or has politely ignored it, bends over the absolutely enormous computer bank and is pressing some buttons and typing on keyboards.

“Looks like computers from my day,” Graham observes, hands in his pockets.

“You can’t say _you kids today_ again _._ I’m banning it from here on out. Are they planning on coming back this way?”

Graham shrugs. Yaz isn’t surprised. “We can always find ‘em by whatever ruckus she makes.”

“That’s true. She loves a ruckus.”

“Should get them here sooner rather than later.” Martha keeps tapping buttons. “Not sure how long this thing has a shelf life once I activate it.”

“You didn’t figure that out before you brought it on board?” Yaz asks.

“The _plan_ was to activate it and then hit my teleport and get out of here on my own instantly, I didn’t bank on you lot. Can’t you call your friend or something?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve texted Ryan.” Graham beams at Yaz. “And you say I don’t know how to text.”

“We never said you were _incapable_ of texting, we said you use too many emojis, which means you don’t know how to text _right_.”

“Oh, and when she uses too many emojis, it’s fine?”

“You _know_ that it isn’t.”

“Yaz, come over and help me with this.”

Yaz walks up to Martha. “What are you doing, anyway? Don’t you just have to strap the bomb to this thing and it’ll go off?”

“Yes, but it’s better to deactivate the failsafe protocols, that way if the ship manages to detect it, it can’t try and shut it off.”

“Ah, there you are!” Yaz hears the Doctor say breezily, the clattering way her footsteps enter a room pounding inside. “So, listen, I think we’ve got to blow this thing up, but the good news is, I am _very_ good at exploding things, sometimes I just walk into a room and things start blowing up.”

“Oh, we’ve got that covered.” Yaz glances behind her. “This is Martha, she was carrying a bomb round in her bag.”

“What’re you carrying a bomb around in your bag for?” Ryan asks.

“You lot need to stop asking me that. Yaz, pull on that wire.” Yaz returns her attention to the console and yanks. “Thanks.”

“Graham,” Ryan says. “I’m begging you to stop being so liberal with the party emoji.”

“Why? I like the party emoji.”

“It’s not even applicable in this situation.”

“Well, it’s applicable in any situation, if you try hard enough.”

“That’s not even close to true.”

“Yaz, pull that one.”

Yaz does. “Do you want to come and help with this?” she asks, glancing behind her.

The Doctor is watching them with an odd expression. She looks surprised and maybe a little wistful, though Yaz isn’t quite sure why.

“No,” she says, tone also a little strange. “No, I think you’ll have it covered.”

Martha yanks a little metal hunk out of the console. “A _ha._ ” She grins at Yaz. “I am _very_ good at this.”

“I believe you.”

Martha sticks the bomb to the console and looks behind her at the Doctor. “I’m Martha.”

“Hi,” the Doctor whispers, uncharacteristically quiet. Yaz isn’t sure she can blame her. Martha’s very cool.

“Where’d you park your ship? I’m not sure when this thing goes off. Is it outside, are we going to have to spacewalk out to it?”

“No. It’s inside.”

“What, you’ve parked in the landing zone?”

“No.” The Doctor clears her throat. “Best to get a shift on, I think.”

Martha hits a button on the bomb. The countdown flashes to a minute and a half. “Alright, time to go. Let’s go to your ship.”

The Doctor races out of the room, looking oddly grateful. The rest of them run after her.

“You know where you’re going, right?” Graham yells.

“I _always_ know where I’m going, I am the _king_ , no, sorry, wrong one, still not used to that, the _queen_ of knowing where I’m going.”

“You get lost wandering around Sheffield!” Ryan yells.

“Well, I don’t _live_ in Sheffield, do I?”

“You don’t live here, either!”

“And you’ve got no excuse for getting lost from my flat to the coffeeshop down the way,” Yaz calls as they turn a sharp corner.

“It is _very_ easy to-“

“It’s a minute and a half walk!”

“It’s a very long minute and a half!” The ship rocks a little. “Is this _really_ what you want to be discussing right now?”

“Yes!”

They turn one last corner to see the TARDIS, the words along the top glowing in that vaguely comforting way it does. Ryan and Graham charge in and Yaz moves to follow them but she becomes aware that Martha’s footsteps have stopped behind her. She turns to see Martha staring at the TARDIS, eyes wide, something in her face faltering.

“Come on,” she says. “It’s alright, trust me. It’s not what it looks like.”

Yaz turns back to the TARDIS, where the Doctor is standing in the doorway, watching Martha. The Doctor follows her in and after a moment, Martha does, too.

The Doctor dashes to the console and starts pulling levers. “Shields are up, but it won’t protect against the entirety of the blast, we need to move now.” She starts hitting buttons. “Oh, _where_ is the coil compressor, she always puts it in a _weird_ place when she changes, I _need_ the coil compressor-“

Martha suddenly strides up and past Yaz, Graham, and Ryan, right up to the console. She reaches out and twists a small knob across from the Doctor to the left. The TARDIS rumbles, and the familiar noise of her vanishing fills the TARDIS.

“Hey,” Graham says, startled. “How’d you know how to do that?”

Martha meets the Doctor’s eyes. “I know what it looks like.”

The Doctor is silent. The two of them stare at each other. It clicks for Yaz all at once, looking at how Martha is holding herself, hand still resting on the console, how none of the TARDIS seems to surprise her, how the Doctor watches her with something entirely too aware in her eyes for it to be a stranger.

“New face,” Martha says.

“New jacket,” she answers.

“Wore the old one out.”

“Looks good.”

“So’s the face. Less gangly than you used to be.”

“Don’t like being shorter.”

Martha smiles suddenly. “Nice to not have to look up too far at you.”

The Doctor sniffs. “I don’t like needing help to reach things in a store. I used to reach things for people in a store.”

“You liked to flip things when you reached for them in a store and drop them.”

“Still. I could reach.”

They look at each other for another moment. Then Martha takes a half step forwards, and the Doctor does the same, and they hug tightly.

“God,” Martha mumbles. “What, over a decade?”

“For you. Bit longer for me.”

“It’s always a bit longer for you.”

The Doctor steps back. “Yeah. That’s true.”

“Makes sense you used to travel with her,” Graham says. “You’re extremely competent.”

“So are you lot.” Martha wipes her eyes a little covertly, looking around. “You’ve redecorated.”

“Oh, yeah!” The Doctor beams. “S’nice, isn’t it?”

Martha shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“Oi,” Ryan says, sounding a little miffed. “It’s nice.”

“Little dark.”

“It’s still _gold_ ,” the Doctor says, also sounding a little miffed.

“Yeah, but it’s dark, though.”

“Hmph. See if I ever ask you anything again.” The Doctor pokes at the console. “How’s Mickey?”

“Pretty good.” Martha shoves her hands in her pocket. “He’s going to be pretty worried, actually, best I get home.”

“Oh. Yeah. Course.” The Doctor looks a little disappointed. “Where are you set up these days?”

The Doctor is busy working around the console. Martha sidles up to Yaz and quietly slides her a piece of paper.

“My number,” she murmurs. “For someday. In case you’re looking for work.”

Yaz knows what _for someday_ means and slides the number into her pocket, trying hard not to think too much about when she too will be out of the TARDIS for good. She nods. “Thanks.”

“Right ho,” the Doctor calls. “We should be in London.”

Martha looks amused. “Will it be where and when I asked?”

“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” The Doctor gestures. “I’ll show you out.”

Martha waves a little at the three of them. “It was nice to meet all of you.”

Everyone waves back, and Martha and the Doctor walk out. The three of them look at the door, and Yaz knows they’re all wondering when they’ll be Martha.

“Got her number, then,” Graham says eventually. “Good on you.”

Yaz rolls her eyes. “That’s not what that is and you know it.”

“You’ve got a type, Yaz,” Ryan observes. “Competent women.”

“Everyone likes a competent woman.”

“You _like_ like a competent woman.”

“Like like? How old are you?”

The Doctor comes back into the TARDIS after a few minutes, face a little sad but not as sad as Yaz might’ve expected.

“Ten years since you traveled with her, then?” Ryan asks.

“Little longer, actually. More or less ten years since I’ve seen her.”

“She seems nice.”

The Doctor smiles fondly. “Yeah. She was brilliant. Really brilliant.” She turns back to the console, just looking at it for a moment, before she jumps back into action. “Right. Come on. Let’s go to that coffeeshop down the road from you, it does the _best_ lattes.”

Yaz knows that the three of them all recognize it as the out the Doctor is looking for, and that they all are going to pretend it isn’t.

“Last thing you need is caffeine,” Ryan tells her instead. “You’ve got too much energy regularly for that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with additional caffeine! Graham, back me up.”

“Nah,” Graham says. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Yaz?”

“Nope. Me, neither.”

“Traitors. All of you.” The Doctor pulls a lever. “See if I take you to the restaurant with the good eggs benedict in Beta Hamma 4 again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this months ago and just got round to finishing it now. There’s going to be a second chapter from the Doctor’s POV, which I’ll post in the next couple days.
> 
> -I like the idea that Yaz crushes on Martha a little bit cause like, who wouldn’t  
> -I don’t know if Martha blowing a raspberry is necessarily in character but I did like it  
> -I like the idea that Graham likes to lightly rib Ryan and Yaz about how much younger than him they are and is like “ah yes I’m traveling with fifteen year olds” and they’re both like WE’RE A BIT OLDER THAN THAT GRAHAM  
> -Graham and the Doctor both text like old people and Graham is not doing that to wind them up, he just likes texting how he’s going to text and that’s nobody’s business but his  
> -I think two things are true: the Doctor is extremely savvy at getting around ships but also she is extremely good at getting lost in places  
> -I picture Martha as learning more about how the TARDIS works during Human Nature/Family of Blood  
> -every companion is like “well your new TARDIS design is fine but it’s not actually my TARDIS”  
> \- [This is Martha’s outfit](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4996249576858087/)  
> \- [This is Martha’s hair](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1548181126680162/)
> 
> [Every once in a while one of my fics gets a bunch of comments in a cluster from different users, and I’m pretty sure at this point it’s because it’s been recced. Which is exciting! But I’d love to see it when it happens, so here’s a link to my tumblr! Feel free to tag me!](https://cosmicoceanfic.tumblr.com/)


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha and the Doctor have a long overdue conversation.

The Doctor and Martha step out of the TARDIS and look around.

“See!” The Doctor says triumphantly. “Right year. I can taste it.”

“You’ve got us in Lambeth,” Martha says, peering at the London Eye. “We live in Barking. That’s gonna be a bit of a hike.”

She feels a little affronted. With her track record, this isn’t bad. “Hey, this is pretty good for me, so, I think that’s good enough. I dropped a companion of mine off in Aberdeen when she should’ve been in Croydon once, so.”

Martha looks amused. “Better than you have been in the past, I can give you that.”

“ _Thank_ you.”

They lean against the TARDIS, looking out at the city. It’s odd, being back in the city with Martha. It feels like standing in a fixed point for the first time in centuries.

“So you and Mickey, defenders of the Earth, eh?” The Doctor asks eventually.

“UNIT’s down and Torchwood’s gone. It’s got to fall to somebody.”

“It was a nice track with the bomb. Electromagnetic pulse to deactivate the systems, destroy the ship to be sure it can’t reboot somehow.”

“Mickey built it. He’s better at the technology stuff and most of the planning work and I’m better at the legwork and thinking on the fly, so that’s what I do.”

“Sounds good.”

“Yeah.” She smiles fondly. “Yeah, we’re a pretty good team.”

The Doctor looks down, fidgeting with her coat a little, feeling a bit awkward.

“Had a lot of time to think, since I’ve seen you,” she says.

“How long’s it been?”

She sighs. “I’ve lost count. A long time.”

“Decades long?”

“Centuries long.”

Martha blinks. “Blimey. You look good, though.”

“Thank you. Point is, I had time to think.” The Doctor crosses her arms. She’s still not very good at talking about things like this, but she feels like Martha’s owed the effort. “I… wasn’t very kind to you, was I?”

“Not all the time.”

“Or Mickey.”

“No.” Martha doesn’t sound angry or upset. More calm, and the Doctor feels a little guilty that she’s had to come to terms with it like that. She shouldn’t have been put in a position where she had to.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t see you properly when you were with me. You were always brilliant. And I’m sorry I didn’t treat you like you were all the time.” It doesn’t feel like enough. But she doesn’t really know how else to say it.

“Well.” Martha grins at her. “It can at least be said that you have impeccable taste in companions.”

The Doctor grins back. “You should’ve met a guy I picked up in the regeneration before you met me. Wasn’t alright at all. Left him with a hole in his head which… wasn’t my finest move, I admit, but he _was_ a bit of an arse.”

“Thank you.” Martha sticks her hands in her pockets. “For apologizing. I’ve… worked some of it out, on my own. I know who I am and I know my worth. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Shouldn’t have made you feel it. Or Mickey. Tell him I apologize, too, I was an arse to him, too.”

“I will.” Martha nods her head behind her a little bit. “They seem nice.”

The Doctor smiles. “Yeah. They’re great. They’re my mates. My fam.”

“…you can’t really be calling them that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that! Fam is great!”

“Do _they_ like fam?”  
“It’s _growing_ on them, I’ll have you know, I think Yaz might even like it now, Ryan and Graham are tougher nuts to crack, but they’re _mostly_ okay with it and I’m _sure_ they’ll like it.”

Martha grins. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Hmph. Pouring my heart out to you every here and you’re _roasting_ me. Am I saying that right? Ryan taught it to me only cause I kept using it wrong but I’m still not sure.”

“You are.” Martha looks over at her. “You were a bit of an arse. But you weren’t always. And I’m better for knowing you.”

The Doctor swallows, her hearts beating a little funny. She tries to forget how much she misses her companions, once they’re gone. It’s better this way, if she tries to forget. But she’d missed Martha, in all her honesty and earnestness and refusal to beat about the bush. “I’m better for knowing you, too.”

“I know you are. You need someone.”

“Yeah. But I’m glad it was you.”

“I know.” Martha nudges her with her shoulder. “You could call every once in a while, y’know. Or write.”

“I’m not good at…”

“Commitment?”

The Doctor narrows her eyes at her. “Bit uncalled for, that.”

“Not untrue, though.”

“No. But still uncalled for.”

Martha pushes herself off the TARDIS and holds her arms out. The Doctor hugs her. Martha always gave a good hug.

“You’re always welcome, if you ever want to come back,” the Doctor whispers.

“I’m needed here. And it’s… not the place for me anymore.” Martha steps back. “But you’re always welcome to visit.”

“Say hello to Mickey for me.”

“I will.” Martha gives her a little salute.

“Oh, I still hate that, don’t do that.”

Martha grins at her, gives her a little wave, and jogs off. The Doctor watches her go, and then steps into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually worried that this isn't extremely in character, but I've been on the "Martha Jones deserved better" bandwagon for ten years and this is more about catharsis for me than it is anything else. I like writing the Doctor attempting to be earnest, though, so that was nice.
> 
> Anyway, I've written about 4k for the other Doctor Who fic I'm working on right now, so that's probably next.
> 
> [Every once in a while one of my fics gets a bunch of comments in a cluster from different users, and I’m pretty sure at this point it’s because it’s been recced. Which is exciting! But I’d love to see it when it happens, so here’s a link to my tumblr! Feel free to tag me!](https://cosmicoceanfic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
